Elle Me Dit
by thecarnalcannibal
Summary: Series. This takes place three years after Lecter's escape from Baltimore. It has not lapsed into the book Hannibal yet. You can't possibly think that Hannibal wouldn't try to contact Clarice sooner, right? Rated M for future expressive sexual 'situations' and intense violence.
1. Chapter 1

**ELLE ME DIT**

**Chapter 1**

Applause slowly rang inside of his ears as he ascertained his whereabouts. It all seemed like a dream - a dream ever since he escaped from that offal of a prison, the Baltimore penitentiary. It had been 3 years ever since he had escaped. Subsequent to his facial reconstruction, Dr. Hannibal Lecter had acquainted himself as a curator to the Louvre. The smell of mixed perfumes - lavender, peaches, and cherry blossoms - had invaded his olfactory senses. To his own disdain, he detested each individual scent until the head curator turned to him. "... Please welcome, Doctor Alighieri, a proud sponsor of our museum and an appreciator of several pieces in this gallery today. Now, please enjoy yourself to some hors d'oeuvres provided by the butlers around and acquaint yourselves with one another. We hope to fill this museum up some more. Isn't that right, Doctor?" The man proudly stalked up to Dr. Lecter, unacquainted to his true identity much to his misfortune and shook his hand with vigor.

"Yes, quite. _Grazie, messere_." With a curt nod of the head, the doctor proceeded to venture through the museum until his eyes had caught sight of a certain painting, known to him in many ways: The Woman Holding the Balance by the Dutch Baroque artist, Johannes Vermeer. With the ample light shining on her belly in the portrait, he was reminded of a particular woman who had revealed to him his own 'monstrosity', a revelation. The balance she held resembled judgment and justice, such an enigma that the agent was delineated herself. A small smile slowly melted onto his thin lips. "Clarice..." Hannibal inhaled sharply and rubbed his knuckles with the pads of his fingers inquisitively before walking out of the museum, ignoring the many greetings and panegyric cacophony that followed. The likes of the people in there only served well as an entree to him, nonetheless. "Fortunately for them, I'm not hungry…" he mused to himself with a wicked grin before getting into his car. He stayed idle for a moment to rethink his decision. It would be prudent in his case to allow her to make the first move. Patience was significant at this moment, anyways.

The gloom of the dark basement room increased as the sky darkened outside, so much so that Clarice Starling had to strain her eyes a little to read the tiny text on the computer screen, the only source of light in the room, yet still only a dim glow. Scattered around the computer, much like autumn leaves, Clarice thought, were endless papers. Papers that Clarice hoped could lead her to Dr Lecter. She had taken the search into her own hands, and now she strived for his capture for a matter of personal pride, fuelled by determination. Clarice remembered something he had once said to her in Memphis; "_Everything you need to find him is there in those pages_". Although Dr Lecter was referring to the now deceased Jame Gumb as the 'him' in that statement, Clarice had clung to that, and desperately tried to make it about Hannibal. She was convincing herself that he could be tracked down through the information she had in front of her, but alas, a part of her knew that this was absurd. Clarice buried that part deep down and tried to forget about it.

As he sat in the car, his hands hovered over the leather steering wheel. His fingers cupped around the contours, familiarizing themselves with the material in a circular fashion. He wondered what Clarice's car was like, the strong Mustang - just like her. "Brave Clarice. You're such a warrior..." He sighed contentedly and patted the steering wheel before fumbling through his pockets for his keys. Once the keys were in the ignition, each ideation summoned in his memory palace flashed by. He saw her face, he felt her finger on his, he could smell her airy perfume, but most prominently - he heard the screaming of the lambs. With that last muse, his eyes flitted to the scene in front of him - Baltimore. It would not take long for him to visit Special Agent Clarice Starling now. With a turn of the key, the Mercedes roared to life and he exited the museum parking lot, all while humming 'Beautiful Dreamer'. An ecstatic and enthusiastic smile formed on his lips, hope twinkling in his eyes - something rarely seen in Hannibal 'the Cannibal' Lecter.

Clarice rubbed her eyes until she obtained that peculiar array of rainbow colored dots and lights on her eyelids. She was tired, no, _fatigued_. Everyone had limits, and Clarice had to come to terms with the fact that she had reached hers. Exhaling deeply, she stood up; legs slightly numb from sitting all day, and gathered her papers, tapping them on her desk to straighten them. Shutting off her computer monitor, she left the room and headed to the car park. Clarice got into her car, slinging the papers onto the passenger seat of the Mustang. The drive home was short (which was lucky, as Clarice was fighting sleep), and she soon arrived back at her home. The darkness consumed her, and she fumbled for a moment with her keys before finally unlocking the front door. She elbowed the door, struggling with the papers which were close to spilling all over the ground. Clarice burst into her house with no grace, tiredness dulling her senses. She didn't stop to flick the light switch, only kicked the door shut behind her and dropped her papers on a small bench that sat in her hall. Clarice sighed heavily, stretching her arms and walking into the kitchen, fixing herself a drink. A half glass of whiskey, just something to aid her sleep further, ensuring a deep state of unconsciousness. She took the glass into her living room, and collapsed onto the couch. Clarice sipped her drink and slouched sideways, her head resting on a small cushion. Still engulfed in darkness, she closed her eyes, but did not sleep.

Drenched in the pitch black darkness of the room, Hannibal watched silently the woman that rivaled Venus in the corner of the room. His maroon irises seemed almost to glow despite the darkness. Without losing a beat, he stepped out of the sea of black and approached the agent, his eyes never blinking. He stooped down some to place her whiskey farther away from the edge of the table to prevent it from spilling in any case. He knew his voice would break the silence, but his voice could not be contained any longer. There was sudden warmth in his palate when he spoke. "Why, hello Clarice. Long time no see." He let out a breath and allowed himself the comfort to recline in an armchair across from her, his legs crossed calmly as he awaited her response, something he knew that would possibly hurt him to an unfortunate content.

Clarice, who had not yet lost consciousness, but was slow and on the verge of sleep, gave a small mumble, believing the voice to be a figment of her imagination, she opened an eye, and quickly registered the presence of Dr Lecter. Bolting upright, a twisted look of anger and shock on her face, she fumbled for her gun, which sat in a holster around her waist, safety on. Sleep clinging to her, Clarice shook her head as if trying to rid herself of fatigue. A snarl formed on her face as she flicked the safety off and pointed her gun at Hannibal. "What the /hell/ are you doing here?!" She inquired, her voice raised, rage mutating her tones into throaty growls, her accent enhancing each word as she glared at him, quaking slightly in shock. She was not scared, but angry that he could find her so easily, yet she was not able to track him down first.

Just as he had expected. He smiled a curt smile and allowed her to finish reacting before speaking. "Brave Clarice. I remember you to be calmer last time we had chatted. Tell me, have the lambs stopped screaming?" He deliberately avoided the fact that he was at gunpoint, because he knew she would never dare shoot him. "You see, Clarice, you need to get more fun out of life. We can't keep having this cat and mouse game forever, you know. There's always an end to something." He smiled, his small white teeth shimmering the bare moonlight that sneaked through the window. Clarice was arguing with herself internally, hands shaking slightly as she aimed her gun. One side of her wanted to shoot him. Another, the side of Clarice that was solely dedicated to her career, wanted to arrest him on the spot and turn him in. But one side, a rogue one at that, couldn't shoot him. Not after everything. Yes, it was a few brief sessions, but there was always something there, and that something strengthened every time they spoke. And that side, the weak side of Clarice, seemed to be winning.

"I'm ending it here." She said firmly, fighting the urge to lower the gun. "The game is over, Dr Lecter. Don't make me shoot you..." Clarice spat out, gritting her teeth as her mental battle raged on. The gun lowered slightly, but Clarice held it tightly in place, as if gravity was telling her to put it down. She would not give him the satisfaction of escaping arrest again, but something told her that she might have to.

"Brave Clarice. Would you really kill me? No, you'd deny me my liberty, wouldn't you? You'd do just that. No, actually not at all. You'd do none of that. You're too strong for that, you're too... independent –

"No!" She desperately tried to deny it. The gun wavered in her hand before becoming still. Quick intakes of breaths were taken through her nose.

"Clarice," He spoke calmly while her battle raged on. "I'm sure this has come to your realization just as much as it has for me. Every ideation summoned in your mind every day is not only of your career or your social life. It's a known fact that you and I have been recurrent in one another's thoughts, isn't that right? Tell me truly, Special Agent Starling. You know, our discussions down in the dungeon back then - they were meaningful, weren't they? It's best if I return the favor in that case, Clarice." He stood up slowly and paced over to her, a looming shadow that came into view. With a calm gesture, he placed the palm of his hand over the barrel of the pistol and took it without a moment's hesitation from her. Placing the pistol on the table, he cocked his head to the side slightly to gaze at her figure. "What do you expect from me, Clarice? Hm? We don't expect the same things from one another. I will never give in just as you will never submit. We are one and the same, Clarice." He never dared touch her. It would be impolite if he did. Instead he waited for her and took a prudent step back. "Ask what you will and I will answer. Quid pro quo, Clarice. Yes or no?" The memories came flooding back, except this time, there was nothing separating the two of them anymore. It was her decision now whether she wanted to step into his territory.

Clarice gave up, and watched Dr. Lecter place her pistol down without putting up a fight. There was no point even trying, not when she couldn't possibly do anything to harm him after everything they'd been through, every last word spoken, and every single last thought. Clarice allowed her arms to fall to her sides as she stared at Dr Lecter, resentment and anger fading in her eyes. She took a step forward, her glare not shifting. "Go, Doctor." She replied. Quid pro quo.. Clarice mused. The same act that had enlightened Dr Lecter on Clarice's somewhat troubled childhood. The lambs, the awful screaming of the lambs that was recurring, although it had ceased for a few long months and then returned suddenly, one night peace, the next torment. Dr Lecter probably knew that it would not stop forever, Clarice thought, as he was incredibly talented at reading people and Clarice would bet at least ten dollars on the fact that he had rightly predicted her reaction to his entrance, and the events to come. Clarice thought of twisting her reaction to something absurd, but then decided against it. It would be ridiculous to try and trick Dr Lecter; it was simply impossible.

Seeing the transition in her facial expressions, he chose not to press on the situation, rather he allowed her control. "No, Clarice - It's your turn now. I will answer whatever you wish for me to answer." He was tempted to hold her hand, but he contained himself. Instead, he allowed his eyes to flutter shut and his tilted his head upward slightly to give himself into the mixed scents of the room until his olfactory senses picked up the usual L'air du Temp. Today, she chose to wear it. Brave Clarice. He smiled at this known fact and looked at her directly in the eyes, allowing his gaze to conform to hers so it would not make her uncomfortable. "Go, Clarice." A warm smile adorned his lips.

Questions formed in Clarice's mind, so many questions. But she knew she would have to answer Dr. Lecter's questions in exchange for her own. So, which to choose? Clarice thought hard, and her gaze faltered for a moment as she broke eye contact with Dr Lecter, her eyes darting around the room as she tried to decide. Then, the most obvious inquiry slipped out. "What _are_ you doing here, Dr Lecter?" She questioned, reestablishing the eye contact, feeling as though she was being enveloped in his maroon eyes, but that effect she was used to, although she had not witnessed it for some time. Clarice had little time to think about why he was here, she didn't think it was to kill her, or she would be dead by now. No, Dr Hannibal Lecter had no intentions of murdering Clarice. But what else could it be? What drives a man to enter a woman's home and ask to play mind games with her? Hannibal was insane, she thought, then corrected herself. No, _Dr. Lecter_ was insane. She did not call him by his first name. Clarice felt like that was too equal, and she knew what he was capable of. They were not equals, but Clarice attempted to make it seem that way.

"The reason I am here is to see you, it's simple. Just as you had come to see me in my prison several times, I see it only respectable to visit you just as you came to visit me, Clarice." He never knew it was so difficult to speak to her. He was used to speaking to her as a man behind the bars, but in front of her, he felt weak and vulnerable. He was hesitant to do so, but he hovered his hand over hers briefly before taking hold of it and raising it to his chest. "Can you feel it, Clarice? I hope you understand." He wanted that thought to be mentioned to her.

_His pulse never went above 85, even when he ate her tongue... _

His eyes sought for her consent, but instead he lowered their hands down to her lap. He was afraid he had made a mistake. He stayed silent and thought it sagacious to let her decide what she wanted to do. "Your turn, Clarice. Have you always felt spite towards me? Make an effort to answer, now.." A smirk pulled at the end of his mouth, knowing that old memories would be uncovered in the moment. Clarice was slightly uncomfortable, and the smallest bit disgusted at Dr. Lecter touching her hand. Always behind bars.. She never thought this would change. She did not pull away straight away, not because she was scared of what he might do, but because she was unsure of how to react to this. Spite, he had said. Clarice slowly withdrew her hand from his grasp, not wanting to act rudely, as she knew that Dr Lecter admired politeness. Clarice opened her mouth to speak.

"I do not feel spite for you, Dr Lecter. I have no reason to. You never wronged me." She answered, her voice steady, as she had no reason to be afraid. "Apart from calling me a _rube_." She mused, a small smirk playing on her lips. Clarice knew he wouldn't hurt her, so it was okay to wind him up a little. Fun. "Quid pro quo, Dr Lecter.." She added. His gaze was unsettling, she felt like she couldn't pretend or hide anything from him. Clarice was always one to question, as he well knew. But Dr. Lecter enjoyed listening to Clarice's numerous inquiries, or maybe it irritated him. She would never know, as she did not possess the strange gift that he had, the gift of reading people as if they were open books.

_Smart girl. You know you cannot hide anything from me. One and the same, I know that I cannot hide anything from you either._

"Oh, that little fiasco? I sincerely apologize for the psychological harm that I've dealt you. I am sure you are aware that it is a force of habit before I realized that you were much more than that, Clarice. I never doubted your abilities." For a moment, his words almost caught in his throat. He still felt that sting of rejection, and he felt as if it hurt more than it did when his beloved Mischa was ripped from his arms. "Clarice, I hope you realize our situation right now. I am free, you are free - yet we are still technically bound. You, by the FBI. I, by the limits of my own alias. Yet now, I feel liberated in front of you. Do you know why? You liberate me, Clarice." A pause. He had realized that his heart had skipped a beat. Unsure as to why he kept pressing the insinuation, he was hesitant of his own self, his own decisions. He had never felt this feeling before in his life. Momentarily, his fingers twitched uncomfortably and he realized that his eyes had never blinked. All he was able to do was stare down at her in that very moment, not realizing the predicament he was in. He was in the cross hairs of her own judgment now. It was her choice whether or not to accept him into her life. "I want to be with you, Clarice. I need you with me now." His heart rate dropped to 85. His eyes blinked once, renewing that blood red gaze and he softly gazed into Clarice's own sapphire eyes.

_People will say we're in love. No. I don't want that. People will say we 'are' love... Clarice.._

Slowly, his hand rose up, outstretched. An open palm floated in front of her, a vulnerable man residing behind it. This was not Hannibal the Cannibal. This was Hannibal, the boy who had needed hope since the beginning now. This was Hannibal, the boy who had died in the snow.

Clarice had to stop and think for a moment as she established what Dr. Lecter had said. 'I need you to be with me'. Need. Something that Clarice had strived on in the past, and something that was slowly catching up to her. She could understand how he was feeling. But could she relate? Not likely, she thought. Dr. Lecter was far too complicated for her to ever comprehend the roots of this sudden neediness.

"Need, Dr. Lecter? Need? Don't you mean 'want'..?" She asked, mixed sympathy in her tired eyes. The fatigue was taking its effect. Clarice became irritable when exhausted, as many of the FBI employees who had interrupted her train of thought late into the night would know. In the presence of Dr. Lecter, Clarice reminded herself constantly to be polite. But what was it worth? He couldn't hurt her. Clarice told herself to be polite to him, no matter how tired she was. It was something that he had always appreciated in her. And hadn't the qualities that he admired; politeness for one, brought him here tonight? Questions. Quid pro quo. The Doctor's way of entering her mind. But that had happened already in Baltimore and Memphis. Clarice had allowed him into her mind by telling him about the traumatic events of her childhood. The lambs. But a small part of Clarice posed the question: Could Dr. Lecter silence the lambs forever?

**{A/N: Don't forget to review/follow? It's up to you guys to keep this series going. If I have enough requests, I will definitely continue. Some criticism would be nice as well, since I know that I probably have grammatical errors here and there, or format is iffy. Second FF, so I'm hoping I'm succeeding nonetheless. Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter at least!~}**


	2. Chapter 2

**{A/N: Here it is - chapter 2. It's finally due to your lovely demands. I have yet to elongate the chapters, and I sincerely apologize. My schoolwork has been in the way recently and I've been having some personal issues as well. I do hope that you like the chapter nonetheless. Don't forget to follow or leave a review. Criticism is much appreciated.}**

_Q/A: To the person who asked who my inspirations were - it was a few of my friends and one of my peers who frighteningly resembles Dr. Hannibal Lecter physically and mentally. Some of the scenes are actually inspired by my own experiences - not saying which ones._

_- To The Uterlizer: Yes... But you'll have to keep reading to witness it. I did warn in the summary that there would be future expressive sexual situations, so.. _

**ELLE ME DIT**

_Chapter 2_

Silence filled the air once more due to the fact that Hannibal was wordless in the situation. It was honestly surprising to Clarice that he seemed a bit less composed than he was behind the glass wall in the past. She could only gaze at his hand, blinking while pondering her choices.

"I mean what I say, Clarice. I changed my intention for a good reason." He still felt his hand floating in front of her, he realized - empty. "You are tired, Clarice. I apologize. I can fix that, though. Do you still find yourself waking up in the dark hearing the awful screaming, Clarice? Hm?" He offered to wait for her once more. His impatience would be disruptive to his intentions. He could understand she was irritated, but he saw something else behind that annoyance. He saw the little girl mourning for her father, the dead night watchman. He only wished to protect her not as a surrogate guardian but as a lover.

_How forthright._

"Clarice..." He could only murmur her name before the sweet tone left his lips. His hand lowered to his side once more as he stood, half coated in darkness. Honestly, he would repeat her name if he could. It gave him a perpetuated comfort. "I lost my family at a young age during the war in Lithuania. I lost my whole family. A brief moment was shared with my beloved sister, Mischa before she was cannibalized by military brutes.. Later on, I had discovered that I myself had semi consciously devoured her as well due to hunger. She saved me and yet, I feel hopeless. You bring back that hope back to me, Clarice." Trust was intended to be established between the two of them in that moment. He wanted her to know that he wasn't just a monster. He was a man, a human being, same as her. He wanted the same understanding and compassion that she sought. He wished to give it to her and receive from her.

What Dr. Lecter said took her aback slightly. She never knew, in fact, she didn't think _anyone_ knew of his childhood. And now he had shared it with her. This sort of gesture could not be ignored or left alone. Letting out a sigh, Clarice rubbed her eyes for a moment, before dropping them back to her sides. Sadness was evident upon her face as she looked at Dr. Lecter, but she felt like it was not her place to understand or sympathize. She spoke quietly, quite frightened of the reaction she might receive. She had tried her best, but alas, Clarice thought she had said the wrong thing. The same thing everybody says when they learn of a family death. Clarice wanted to edge backwards in the thought that he might react badly, maybe hurt her mentally, as she continued to remind herself that he wouldn't harm her physically.

"I.. I didn't know." Clarice swallowed, trying to maintain eye contact with him, and added; "I'm sorry.." He had asked about the lambs, she suddenly remembered. She felt like he deserved an answer. "They continue to scream, Doctor. They never stop." She said softly, not wanting to provoke him with lies. His reaction, she was unclear on. She didn't know what to say or do.

"No matter, Clarice. I wished to share it with you. I trust you with this information and I expect no sympathy. You shared your past with me, I believe it fair to share you mine. Mischa completed me, Clarice. There is no harm in that."

He gave her a warm smile and proceeded to slowly reveal his compassion for her. He had to be careful. He understood she was fragile. Pulling the armchair close to her, he gave himself a spot to recline and be at ease. So much tension had been evident in the air around them, even he began to feel queasy just from the thought of it. He hated that he kept pressing his feelings on her, but he was obsessed. He had never loved like this before. Ever since the first time she had stepped into his dungeon, he felt it impossible to fully break her despite his endeavors. She was strong unlike the others. She was still impenetrable. He wished to return the favor. The moonlight finally revealed the two of them; no more darkness, now. He would not allow anything to be hidden between them. No more secrets. Whatever she would wish to know or uncover from him, she would be able to read like an open book.

"I will give you that knowledge supplied by your own acumen, Clarice. Will you allow me that right?"

_Would you allow me to be with you?_

The question hung in his mind like an empty rag doll. His eyes shimmered, his pupils dilated. Taking her ample hand in his own calloused ones, he placed her hand against his chest.

Clarice watched him sit down with the relief that he was not acting in a probing or aggressive manner. She exhaled slightly and sat back down, tense, not sure how to spit out her words. Clarice looked him dead in the eye, and spoke.. As he took her hand in his, there was still an ongoing argument in Clarice's mind. A part of her was repulsed that he was touching her, knowing of what those hands had done. That part was pushed down inside her, deep down, and almost forgotten. Another still sparked inside her, the idea of turning him in. Oh, what the FBI would say, what Jack would say. She would receive the highest honors. But Clarice was not an attention seeker. She did not leech off of compliments and pride, merely waved them away. And the final piece of her mind felt like this was _right_. Something told her that this was meant to be, from the day that she had sat down in front of his cell. It seemed that the urge to arrest him and the want to talk to him were fighting for her decision. Clarice wanted to talk to him. He was an intriguing man. It appeared that she would allow him to help her with the screaming; there was no better person for that. So she stared at him, memories of those few short sessions long ago flooding her mind. Was there anything there? Of course. The last time she saw him, how their fingertips had brushed, the way it crackled in his eyes. How could she forget? And now the session had begun again. Clarice's gun lay on the table. She glanced at it briefly before deciding that she would not need it.

"You may have the right, Dr. Lecter." She said, quietly and gently.

"You're conflicted, Clarice. I understand that, but I can help you. By doing this, I want you to realize that I am not a monster. Now, I wish to protect you. Rather than staining these hands with gratuitous blood, I will protect you."

Hannibal needed to reassure her. Noticing her flitting eyes, his own never wavered. Instead, with pursed lips, his Harpy slid out from inside his sleeve into the palm of his hand and with a fluid motion, flicked open the blade. Pausing for a reaction from her, he smiled and closed the blade with his thumb and opened her palm. He placed the blade carefully in the center and shut her hand into a fist. Placing her fist gently in his own palm, he patted her knuckles reassuringly. He cupped her face with his hands soothingly, a warmth emanating from his touch.

"You know what's right, Clarice. You have always been fair in judgment ever since our discussions down in the dungeon, you always knew what to say, what to think." With his thumb, he traced her jawline comfortingly, his tone lush and ambient. He needed her to know. His eyes gave off the same sensation as the time they had first touched. Except now, the look was prolonged and hopeful.

As Dr. Lecter closed her palm around the blade, Clarice felt an air of complete trust around her. The metal felt cool to the touch, but with the warmth it obtained while concealed in his sleeve. The idea that he could've killed her at any time struck her subliminally terrifying, yet she had faith that she would not be wounded at his hands. Thoughts after thoughts entered her mind, one being that this knife that she now held in her hand was probably the reason that someone, somewhere was now decomposing. Clarice took a deep breath and remained calm, pushing this thought from her mind. She did not even think about having to harm him with his own blade, this idea never even occurred to her, it was as if it had been misted over with the fog of trust that had arisen between them. Clarice allowed him to touch her face, not breaking eye contact. She stayed silent, her face showing no apparent emotion apart from subtle sympathy. Clarice did not feel that she needed to say anything to convey her emotion. She communicated with her eyes, and although they were dull with exhaustion, she knew that Dr. Lecter would know what she was thinking.

Hannibal registered his emotions and her reactions.

_Brave Clarice. What will you do now? I have given you everything that I can. Do you still resent me?_

"How about my liberty then? Will you take that now? Are you going to do that to me, Special Agent Starling?" He said it without missing a beat and pursed lips. He was almost confident, almost prepared. He would not go without a fight though, if that was the case. "I don't want you to show sympathy. I want you to show that you understand me and that you feel something as well, Clarice.." He almost grew desperate, desperate for this woman that had saved him from those dark days in the dungeon. He was about to do something absurd, but he had to wait for her to make the first move - for her to allow him into her life. It would be impolite to tread on territory that did not welcome him. His thumb still etched along her jawline, pausing just beneath her lips. The pad of his thumb covered the small depression briefly before he dropped his hands to his laps in a hopeless manner. His eyes deviated from her stare for the first time just as it had when she revealed to him the fact that he 'ate his trophies' rather than kept them.

Clarice watched him speak, and when he had finished, thoughts whirred through her mind. She could take his liberty right now. It would be relatively simple, as she had the advantage. She was on home territory. But Clarice couldn't do that, not after what he had shared with her about his childhood. She shook her head slowly, and opened her mouth. "No. I will not take your liberty, Dr. Lecter. It is not my place to do so." Her words were quiet, soft, comforting, her tone calm, although a small shard of fear still resided inside her. Clarice had registered what he had said. She couldn't think how she could show that she understood him. It was simple; she didn't. There was no way Clarice Starling could ever fully understand Dr. Hannibal Lecter. It seemed that once more, reminding her of the sessions in the dungeon, that she had to request his help to understand a mind like his. She wanted answers, she wanted to show him that she could help after what he told her about his family.

"How, Dr. Lecter? How can I understand you, when you are so complicated?"

"Let me guide you, Clarice. I promise you, I will not be complicated with you anymore after this. The answers will come to you once asked upon now. Do you understand that? "I need you to trust me. I want you to understand."

She nodded when Dr. Lecter asked if he understood, but did not speak. A part of it was exhaustion, another fact that Clarice was literally speechless.

Standing up, he took her hand and brought her up with him. Clarice was slightly taken aback by Dr. Lecter's sudden movement, but allowed herself to be pulled up. Her face was pale, yet her eyes were bright, although they were dimming like that of a dying light bulb. The dead weight he pulled felt like hesitance. He understood that, but with his own wiry strength, the dead weight diminished as he held her hands, a small distance situated between their bodies. Everything seemed somewhat surreal. She had accepted the fact that Dr. Lecter and she had chemistry, but she never thought in a thousand years that they would ever speak again, let alone be standing here, hand in hand. He realized that her judicial side refrained her from fully acknowledging what was being bestowed upon her at the moment. He gave her understanding, something she was trying not to gain, yet another part strongly yearned for that knowledge. He would feed that factor. Slowly, he allowed everything to register in his mind. A goddess was standing before him, a kindling light shining on her in a supernatural manner. He smiled and spoke softly. "You're beautiful, Clarice. The lambs will scream no longer, my Love." He finally said it. His hand traveled to her waist, the other hand held her chin in place delicately rather than firmly. He still gave her control. Leaning in, their lips made contact and his lips burned with a warm sensation_._

_Love. Something I have not experienced in a long time._

Everything felt simple at that precise moment. Would the same thought be registered in Clarice, he wondered. He was prepared for the worst.

She stayed expressionless as he took her by the waist and held her chin. She knew what was coming, and accepted it. Clarice kissed Dr. Lecter back, gentle, not fighting or demanding control. She wanted them to be equal, but she knew that on some levels, for example, intellect, this was not possible. But on the topic of love, she might be able to be his equal, a thought that seemed good to her.

She listened to him speak, and did not react to the sentences, though when he claimed that she was 'beautiful', she had to fight a smile. Clarice placed a hand on his chest, directly over his heart. Some part of her told her that this was forbidden. But Clarice disregarded this, and buried the thought deep down within herself. She knew that this had been coming, if indeed they ever met again. And there was no real problem here. Jack wouldn't know, the FBI wouldn't know. There was no way they could find out. Clarice mentally shrugged and smiled slightly.

Exhaling slowly, Hannibal in return embedded his own passion into the kiss. His hand shuddered slightly but stayed firm. Love was an unknown emotion to him. He himself did not understand the bold new territory he had stepped in. This yearning had led him into a forsaken knowledge. The common intellect he was exposed to, the complex fumblings in other people's minds had failed him because love was a sacred emotion that he had never exposed himself to. He pulled away from her lips and pressed his lips soothingly against the side of her neck, speaking almost timidly in her ear. "Do you see now, Clarice? You've changed me. I know not if it is for the better, but I will do whatever it takes to please you, my Love. Do you understand what you are capable of doing to me?" Hannibal allowed his hands to travel along her back as he slowly embraced her. He finally felt content, yet confused. The emotion of love was a mystery to him. He found that he had almost labored breathing. The kiss was extremely surreal to him. As refuge, he allowed himself the comfort of holding the fragile agent in his arms.

Clarice put her arms around Dr. Lecter, finding the embrace just as comforting as it was loving. He was huggable, she mused. The last person you'd expect to be a good hugger. But then again, he doesn't give them often, she thought. She took in his words, especially the word 'change', which sank into her slowly. Clarice did not think that Dr Lecter could change completely. In some ways, perhaps. But not entirely. This did not bother Clarice Starling. Her work was important, yes. She knew that if someone found out about this, her whole career would end in the blink of an eye. But Clarice was always one to take risks. She didn't know exactly what she was capable of doing to Dr Lecter, but she didn't think that this happened to many people either. Clarice opened her mouth and spoke softly. "I suppose I do, yes..". She responded, as she lay her head on his chest, and closed her eyes. Everything seemed so odd, and Clarice found herself wondering if this was a dream, but obvious signs told her otherwise. Clarice hugged Dr Lecter tightly, not really wanting to let go.

"Clarice.. I am unknown to this emotion.." His voice sounded desperate and weak. Hannibal Lecter was a formidable man, but when it came to his own emotions, he succumbed to them. He looked into her eyes and he felt content. The woman he loved had returned it to him as well. Nothing satiated him more than that. "I will need you to guide me in this emotion." He understood that she would not comprehend him at times due to his intellect, but he saw her as much more than that. He smiled weakly and ran the back of his hand along her cheek, pressing his lips against hers softly to try and get himself acquainted to the feeling.

Clarice smiled, and looked into Dr. Lecter's dark, probing eyes with mild amusement. It was strange seeing him at a loss. It seemed that Clarice, for the first time in their history, was the dominant force here. Unknown to the emotion.. Clarice knew the feeling. She had not experienced exhilaration until Dr. Lecter had sent her to Your Self Storage, where a decapitated head lay waiting for her. But it was definitely peculiar to see the ingenious Dr. Hannibal Lecter unsure of what to do. He was a man who knew everything, and now, it seemed, Clarice had him almost confused. As he kissed her once more, Clarice touched a hand to his cheek, and whispered. "Guide you? The Hannibal Lecter, expert psychiatrist, needs guidance?" She said softly, just humoring him. It also made her smile against his lips, and she had to hold back a laugh. Clarice stroked his cheek gently, marveling at his weakness on the subject.

A smirk daunted on his lips and he gave a mischievous wink. "A genius in many ways but one." He elicited a dungeon hiss in her ear, whispering. "Someone has a sense of humor, doesn't she?" He savored her touch. Exhaling softly, his nose picked up her perfume and he couldn't help but sigh contentedly. The warmth of her body against his was satisfactory and he locked these new memories away in a room of his memory palace labeled, _My Love. _"Clarice, would you do me the honor of allowing me refuge for a night? It seems that I really don't want to leave you alone." He grinned wolfishly and chuckled softly before pressing his lips against her forehead, a delicate kiss.

"A sense of humor, you could say that." Clarice said, her tone calm and quiet. "More of an ability to find the funny side of situations." She added, realizing him a little as she made the embrace gentler. Clarice thought about the question he had posed. She wanted him to stay, of course. But she had work tomorrow. Speaking of work, what would she be working for? The person she was searching for was right there, in her arms. It would look suspicious if she suddenly quit the case. Excuses whirred in Clarice's brain. She could tell Jack that she simply had no leads. He'd understand. But Clarice did not like lying. She told herself that one lie couldn't do that much harm, right? Right, she assured herself. "Of course. I wouldn't be so rude as to kick you out now, hm?" Clarice replied, looking up at him.

"No, of course not. Impoliteness from you would be quite spontaneous and unexpected." He winked at her and gave a curt smile. With pursed lips, he brushed an errant lock of hair away from her face as he looked down at her with eyes filled of wonder and joy. "Clarice.. Your work.." he sighed and nibbled on his bottom lip uncomfortably. "Leave with me... Everything you need, I have. We can be away from everyone.. Of course, you can tell your best friend, Ms. Mapp, of our whereabouts as long as she keeps it confidential. Whoever you trust, I shall trust as well." He felt a pang of worry and guilt for some reason. He did not want to take her away from her familiar environment. He was probably even acting selfish, but this was all for the benefit of her. He wanted her to be happy. This could be the perfect getaway.

Clarice nodded up at him as she took in his words. She _wanted_ to leave with him, but her work was the thing that concerned her. Clarice Starling was a workaholic. And now.. Her work was over. But she couldn't just drop it. Leaving the case would surely arouse suspicion. "What do you have in mind? What could you do to help me leave without anyone suspecting?" She inquired, her head tilted a little to the side as looked at him, sensing his uneasiness. Clarice thought of Ardelia. What would she say if she left? Clarice had faith that Ardelia would not reveal her whereabouts, but she could imagine the pain her best friend would go through knowing that Clarice had run off with a potentially dangerous serial murderer. She couldn't think how she and Dr. Lecter could escape and evade detection. Clarice knew how the FBI worked. She knew that they could track down almost anyone they wanted (apart from Dr. Lecter, apparently). Clarice had her doubts. She just hoped Dr. Lecter could resolve them.

Hannibal blinks, quiet for a brief moment. He walked through his memory palace to seemingly sit down in the center to think. Mentally, he was troubled, but with his intellect he would be able to find a way. Considering the options available for the end to an FBI case, he carefully analyzed each scenario and sought a loophole. Opening his eyes, he announced it with a calm tone. "How can a case be worked without a person working the case?" He grinned wolfishly. Each path that would be needed to be taken was at hand. "I'll have to take you off the face of the earth, Clarice." He winked, leaning in to bite the air in front of her to intimidate her a bit. After a brief moment, he gazed into her eyes with an innocent and comforting look. "Do you trust me?"

**{A/N: Don't forget to follow/review. Hope you enjoyed this chapter.}**


	3. Chapter 3

{A/N: I just want people who support the Hannigraham ship to just be quiet. If you want Hannigraham smut then go somewhere else. There is a reason that there is now a Hannibal TV version of the story and a Hannibal/Silence of the Lambs version. Gay Sex Machine, I am a supporter of homosexuality and I do not have spite for them in any way. I simply am a Clannibal shipper and if you want to discuss this with me personally, I would be glad to shut you up. Otherwise, leave my fanfiction alone. I am sick of Hannigraham shippers coming into the movie version of the story and ruining Clannibal shippers. You're not the only ship. For people thinking that Clarice seems vulnerable, I had a reason to make it so.}

**Chapter 3**

Clarice watched him carefully, thinking about something. The prospect of just abandoning her home, her job, her _life,_ seemed hardly frightening, but exciting, adventurous. It was a chance for a whole new life. Clarice wanted this. She knew that Dr. Lecter would treat her well. She was prepared to drop everything and leave, as she saw it a way for the both of them to escape their pasts. When Dr Lecter spoke and put forward his idea, Clarice nodded. It seemed fairly straightforward. It seemed that both of them would have to fake their deaths. "How are we going to be able to do this, Dr Lecter? The concept is rational, but the deed itself.." She said, glancing around the room casually, trying to think of ideas. Clarice was fairly certain that Dr Lecter's intelligence would come in extremely handy in this situation. She was convinced that they could do it. What she lacked, but was sure that he didn't, was the genius needed to make the operation run smoothly. Dr Lecter had that.

Hannibal smiled wickedly and kissed the back of her hand. When he raised his head, he flicks open the blade of his Harpy. "I have my ideas, Clarice. Now then, I believe it prudent to consider our options. I would love to discuss it further, but.. we will need to take some time with this plan. We are still incognito." He heaved a confident sigh and winked. "Did you ever doubt my abilities, Special Agent Clarice Starling?"

"Of course not.." The thought of murder hardly bothered her anymore, after working in an environment where murder and death looms like a dark cloud. "Participants.." She murmured. The people had to have no connection with her or Dr. Lecter. Clarice was sure with hours and hours of careful planning, they could pull off the perfect plan to rid themselves of their past lives all together, and start afresh. It was what Clarice would like, and she was sure it was what Dr Lecter wanted, as he was the one who suggested it. Clarice still felt an air of peculiarity around her. It really was like being in a dream. This time yesterday she was asleep, living her life as she would, but most likely about to wake up and hear the oh-so-familiar screaming. Clarice was so certain that Dr Lecter could make it cease. He predicted rightly that the screaming would stop after Clarice aided the rescue of Catherine Martin. Clarice did not know if he knew that the screaming resumed a few months later. She would have to ask him at the right moment.

"Participants to assist us, Clarice.." He chuckled and patted her cheek with his a bare knuckle, barely grazing her chin. "You'll see in due time. For now, let us get some rest. I'm sure you're tired. I did not mean to intrude at such late an hour, but it was necessary." Hannibal said all the while placing delicate kisses on the back of her hand, his own gliding over the contours of her shoulder and neck. "You're a divine sight, my Love." He smiled warmly, satiated by her presence and by the turn of events that had come to be. Taking her in his arms, one arm underneath her legs and the other cradling her by her back, he carried her upstairs to her bedroom and placed her down. "Get some rest, Clarice. I believe we will have much to discuss in the morning. If ever you need anything, I'll be downstairs on the couch." He found it rude to share a bed with a woman unless given permission. He always gave her the control she desired. He wanted to understand her and her to understand him. He was not the same. He was not a Beast anymore. He was a Protector, a Guardian. At all costs, he would protect his beloved. "Pleasant dreams, my Love."

Clarice was exhausted, and henceforth allowed him to carry her upstairs. She was too tired to really comprehend the situation properly, and with that she simply nodded at his words. Clarice picked up the words 'murder' in his speech. She buried her face in the pillow and mumbled. "The case files don't seem to add up..". Her tone was sleepy, and she found herself already dropping off.

"Pleasant dreams, my Love." He whispered soothingly before placing a delicate kiss on her forehead and departing swiftly. He was confused at her random statement, but he ignored it. Slowly, he succumbed to his exhaustion and fatigue. The plans still whirred in his mind until his memory palace went on hiatus.

Clarice mumbled something quietly as she quickly fell into a deep sleep, his last moment of warmth guiding her into a state of unconsciousness. Her exhaustion swallowed her whole as she drifted off with the situation sinking in slowly as she entered sleep. The sleep she was slipping into was a type of unconsciousness that she had not experienced since the rescue of Catherine. But even that had worn off. Clarice did not believe that this would wear off.

White slowly overtook her vision, a high pitched howl flooding her ears before quickly fading away. The sun light was slowly breaking through the tall windows in the bedroom. Realizing it was a different milieu than the living room she had last resided in, she quickly remembered the night before. Turning around frantically, she saw emptiness. Her pillow was absent of wrinkles, but a scent hung in the air - a scent oddly familiar to her, but at the same time ambiguous.

"Good morning." The silence was broken. The monster appeared before her, a tall looming figure in the white light.

Gun. Where was her gun? That was the only thought that flashed in Clarice's mind like a mad siren.

He could easily see the outline of her face – every detail, pristine in nature. She was so pure. That was how he saw her. It was a shame. The perspectives of the two were so large in contrast. A content smile smoothed onto his lips before he set the food on a nearby table after pulling it close to the bed for easy access. "My Love, I believe it is time to eat up."

For a moment she was somewhat confused believing it to be a mirage, but then the reality sunk in as Dr. Lecter kissed her sweetly on the lips. It was a cold feeling, and immediately, she felt chills shooting up her spine. "Dr Lecter." She said uneasily before she glanced to the left and looked at the clock. It was half an hour before she had to arrive at the Bureau. She shook her head for a brief moment, pushing the thought of work out of her mind. Clarice felt odd, a strange embarrassment as looking so rough in the presence of Dr. Lecter. She was typically well-dressed, but obviously not in the morning. Clarice breathed in, and the aromas from his cooking reached her nose. She wanted to ask about her work, but she didn't think that this was the moment. Clarice left it, looking at the clock again. If she didn't turn up, Jack would probably call her up to check on her. How amusing that would be, Jack Crawford asking how she was as she faked an illness of some sort, when really she was subject the company of someone who was so notoriously wanted by the FBI. A sense of uneasiness settled in her heart. It was a heavy feeling, dragging her down. Her eyes then locked onto her gun, placed neatly on the top of her nightstand.

"Please Clarice, address me casually. Hannibal is fine. No need to use my professional alias." He gave a warm smile before placing a delicate kiss on the crown of her head. "Freshly squeezed orange juice, pork sausages, unfortunately," He gestured to each food with a flat hand. The short pause at the sausages made him chuckle slightly, "… Hash browns with some sautéed mushrooms and a side of peppers in case you're in the mood for something spicy to wake you up. I made use of your kitchen, I hope you don't mind. Enjoy." He spread a napkin onto her lap. "I trust that you slept well?" Hannibal took a seat next to her, his hands running along her back to identify any uncomfortable spots in her muscles. He gently pressed in and freed any knots that ran along her shoulders and back to give her some relief before eating. "While you eat, I'll be glad to discuss the plans with you." He proclaimed with clasped hands. Gazing at her with raised eyebrows, he pursed his lips. "What do you think?"

No response. Clarice could only look at him in shock before her eyes transitioned into a blank stare.

"Clarice, I have everything planned out."

"I am willing to let you escape, Dr. Lecter." Clarice looked up at Hannibal with a strong gaze. A sting of rejection reflected in Hannibal's eyes as he had realized a forsaken statement. "_What is left in you to love?" _Lady Murasaki had appeared before him. The image faded away and Clarice sat in front of him. He cradled her hands, each delicate digit laced between his without a slightest tremor.

He never noticed when his hands became empty until the sound of a gun loaded. The barrel of a gun pointed in front of his face. "I am giving you one last chance, Doctor Lecter. Leave instantly." This time, her gun did not waver like her first encounter with Buffalo Bill. This man was different. If anything, he was the most fearsome man of all. The only reason she was not afraid was simply because that moment was predestined. She was trained for this, anyways.

"Alright, Clarice." He stared blankly at her before his gaze wavered and he lowered his head; however, a smile melted onto his lips and he raised his hands up in the air, almost mockingly and pressed them against the back of his head, standing up. He treaded backwards to the door, her gun never leaving his sight. "I hope to see you soon, Clarice." The famous wink and he stepped through the door, disappearing in the corridors.

Clarice had rushed to the door, keeping her back against the wall before peeking through her hallways only to discover silence. _No one in the kitchen. No one in the living room. No one_. She was alone now. She then let out a deep exhalation. It was at that moment of his absence that fear made its way to her. Grunting in frustration, she held her face in her hands, trying to make sense of the situation, of everything. She felt stupid. She was so vulnerable, letting the man invite himself into her home like that. In the end, everything felt like a dream. She thought it was a dream. "I thought.." She closed her eyes almost in defeat. What would her father have done in this situation? Tears welled up in her eyes, a moment of sentimentality. In the end, she realized that whether or not it was a dream, her subconscious wanted the same thing, which was to be with Hannibal. With furrowed eyebrows, she blinked, making sense of her newfound dilemma.

The doorbell rang, startling the agent. Keeping the gun at her side, she approached the door. Another ring, and she paused, waiting a moment longer.

The door swung open slightly. Hannibal?

"Clarice Starling?" A man had said, almost in a muffled tone. He was in a black vest with a red and white plaid shirt and a dull fedora of an oak color. The decorations of fishing lines were laced into his hat.

"Who are you?"

He took off the hat, revealing a messy portrait that Picasso would have defined as a 'masterpiece'. "I'm Ex-Special Investigator Will Graham… I need to discuss something with you that is of importance, Special Agent Starling."

{A/N: Don't forget to comment/follow.

I hope you guys realize where I'm going with the vulnerability of Clarice. I had hoped to make parallels to her at the end of Hannibal if you know what I mean. I honestly see Clarice as mildly confused about Dr. Lecter right now. That's how I want it to be so. If you're against it, then by all means, read another fanfiction. }


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